


ain't slowin' down

by fliptomybside



Series: you can hear it in the silence [5]
Category: Dunkirk (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliptomybside/pseuds/fliptomybside
Summary: fionn's all in. harry is too.





	ain't slowin' down

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiii, hello, as always this is pretty much thanks to [Em](http://fullstopmgnt.tumblr.com). Uni fionnry is our happy place, I hope you like it too. Title from Little Big Town's Girl Crush, unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine, please don't let the real people that this is about see it, etc. etc.

“Y’know,” Tom starts, already rolling his eyes at the way Harry’s got his fingers tucked into the waistband of Fionn’s jeans, “sometimes I wonder if the two of you actually get on without the getting off bit.” 

It’s quiet except for the sounds of Love, Actually on the TV, and after a second Fionn can feel Harry’s legs tense underneath him and his fingers stop the tiny circles they were rubbing into Fionn’s skin.

“Heyyy,” he grumbles, and Fionn lets himself lean into the sound, tips his head back so it’s resting against the back of the couch. 

He gets a lungful of Harry’s shampoo, clean and coconutty, and tries not to let the weird feeling in his stomach, because of course it’s more than that. Right? Like, Fionn’s never--never done anything quite like this before. Not long term, not longer than one night. Can’t even remember waking up in someone else’s bed maybe ever. But here he is with Harry in his too narrow twin bed more often than not, octopus limbs curled around Fionn in sleep. 

“Fionn’s an expensive date, I’ll have you know,” Harry says, and Fionn tips forward enough so he can brush his lips against Harry’s neck, which probably just feeds into Tom’s whole point. 

“‘M not, thanks,” Fionn growls against the soft skin of Harry’s neck. 

Tom just cackles and heaves himself up on the couch as the credits roll. 

“All I’m saying is that I’m the one who has to listen to you fucking every night, mate. And sometimes in the morning. I mean, before my eight o’clock? C’mon, H, I know you’re doing all right down there,” Tom says, gesturing in the general direction of Harry’s laugh, which prompts Harry to let out a bark of laughter, jostling Fionn in his lap with the force of it, “but there’s no way it’s that good.”

“That’s what you think,” Harry says, and Fionn catches him waggling his eyebrows obscenely when he rights himself in Harry’s lap. 

Tom just rolls his eyes and ruffles Fionn’s hair like Fionn’s a kid and not actually a good three months older than he is, thanks. 

“Niiight,” Harry calls after him, so casual and natural that Fionn almost but not quite forgets about the way Harry’d tensed up when Tom called them out. 

“‘Y all right?”

Harry whines a little when Fionn slides off of his lap and settles cross legged into the couch next to him. They’re not touching. Fionn’s moved himself just far enough away that they aren’t, but he’s still so close he swears he can feel the heat radiating off of Harry’s body.

“Was better when you were in my lap,” Harry says after a beat, and the smile that he pulls is almost right. 

“Tom’s a right shit sometimes,” Fionn says, trying not to let the words get caught in his throat, “probably just mad about the last time you did naked pancakes.”

Harry snorts and reaches out to put a hand on Fionn’s knee. It’s warm and heavy and familiar and still everything Fionn wants, even five--fuck, six--months in. Long enough that Harry threatens to buy him a bigger bed every other night because he ‘likes the uni experience, just not this part.’ 

“I know I’m a bit much,” Harry says, quiet and slow, like he’s afraid of saying it too loudly in case Fionn latches onto it. 

It’s always hard for Fionn to look at Harry, mostly because Harry’s almost always looking back at him like the sun’s shining out of his arse, but also because Harry’s face is--a lot. A lot in that it’s maybe all Fionn wants to look at for the rest of his life, which makes him want to look at it sideways, because Harry in his peripheral vision is safer, like Fionn’s weaning himself off of him, somehow. Just in case there’s a day coming when he won’t have this anymore. 

“You’re not, though.”

Fionn’s not great with words. He’s not a songwriter like Harry is, but he appreciates honesty, and he knows, hopes, that Harry will too. That he won’t let Tom’s words get stuck in his head. 

“Mmm,” Harry hums, dragging his hand off of Fionn’s knee, “You can like--you can tell me if I’m smothering you.”

The way he says it sounds like someone else. Like maybe he’s been told this before and he’s frontloading this conversation so it’ll hurt less.

“I mean,” Fionn says, awkwardly slinging a leg over Harry’s hips and settling lightly back in his lap, “you’re quite good at like, the fun kind.”

He blushes as he says it, but it’s worth it for the tiny grin that graces Harry’s lips, like he’s remembering the first time he traced over the dip between Fionn’s collarbones and then palmed his neck, pressed down just enough to test the waters, and the way Fionn went still beneath him. 

He tries to settle deeper into Harry’s lap, but Harry’s hands go to his hips, gentle but firm, lifting Fionn up with him as he stands up. Fionn can hear Harry’s back crack when he straightens up, and he rubs his thumb gently at the back of Harry’s neck.

“Maybe we should like. Just get some sleep tonight. Give Tom a break, yeah?”

“H,” Fionn starts, trying to beat down the tiny seed of panic that wants to unfurl in his chest. You’re leaving again soon, he wants to say, and I’ve missed you, even if I don’t say it enough, but the words die on his lips. 

“I’ll let you be the little spoon,” Harry says, cutting him off and blinking at him, all big eyes and dark circles under them, even though he’s been home from tour for a week at this point. 

“Nah,” Fionn says, clenching his jaw, “I know it’s your favorite.”

Harry moves slowly down the hall to Fionn’s room. Tom’s door is shut tightly, and the floor creaks under Harry’s feat, quiet and familiar. Harry turns around so he can push Fionn’s door open with his back, and it makes Fionn’s chest clench up a little at how wrong Tom is. It’s not just the sex, even though Fionn’s never been so well fucked in his life. It’s the quiet nights on the couch and the scrabble and how Harry’s got a drawer in Fionn’s dresser and that they have tentative plans to drive up to Harry’s mum’s over the holidays. 

Fionn tries to smile up at Harry when he gently tips Fionn onto the bed. Harry smiles back, a tiny crease forming between his eyebrows that Fionn wants to smooth out with his thumb.

“Just gonna brush my teeth,” Harry whispers, tangling his fingers in his hair. 

Fionn nods as Harry pads out of the room, almost tripping on the pair of sneakers he left by the door a few hours ago. He should brush his teeth too, but all the energy’s leaked out of his bones all at once, and the most he can do is strip down to his pants and crawl under the covers. He scoots all the way over to the wall, close enough that his nose brushes against it, and squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to fall asleep.

He can tell Harry’s trying to be quiet when he creeps back in, but he does trip over the shoes this time, and Fionn has to bite his lip to keep in his laughter when Harry swears softly.

The mattress sinks under Harry’s weight, and Fionn forces himself to stay as still as possible, breathing slow and steady so Harry won’t realize he’s still awake.

Harry doesn’t hesitate to snug up behind him, chest warm against Fionn’s back. He’s left his pants on, which is a rarity that Fionn tries not to let himself think too deeply about. Harry kisses the first knob of Fionn’s spine, his lips soft and gentle, the chap when he came back from tour gone.   
He slides his arms around Fionn’s waist after a minute, his breath coming in steady puffs against Fionn’s neck, and every cell in Fionn’s body wants to lean back into him. He gives in embarrassingly easily, because he is easy for Harry. It’s not a secret and Fionn doesn’t think it ever was.

-

Harry’s hard against him when Fionn wakes up. Everything’s hot and familiar and he presses back against Harry instinctively before the memories of the night before flood his brain. The way they’d just gone to sleep the night before even though Harry’s leaving again soon. The forced smiles and the way Harry’d bitten his lip, how he’d talked about being too much. 

Right.

Fionn freezes, tries not to let on that he’s awake as Harry sighs against the back of his neck and briefly tightens his arms where they’re still wrapped around Fionn’s waist. He shifts forward against Fionn for a second, his cock bleeding heat through the thin fabric of his pants, but then he’s gone, pulling back and letting his hands slip away from Fionn.

“Gonna make pancakes,” Harry rasps, his voice still thick with sleep, “I know you’re awake.”

Fionn squeezes his eyes shut even though he’s facing the wall and Harry can’t see him. 

“‘M sleeping,” he says after a second, pulling the covers back over his head.

Harry does laugh at that, low and throaty, and it calms the curl of anxiety in the pit of Fionn’s stomach a little. 

Fionn listens to him pad out of the room, thankfully missing the shoes by the door this time, and rolls over onto his stomach. The pillows smell like Harry’s shampoo, coconut and vaguely tropical, and Fionn breathes it in deep and holds it, like that’ll help him commit it to memory. He can hear Harry puttering in the bathroom. The sink running. The flush of the toilet. Harry dropping something, probably his toothbrush. It’s all normal. 

The pipes groan when Harry turns the shower on, and all Fionn can think about is whether or not he’s getting himself off. Hot shower or cold. His skin prickles all over and he can feel himself start to get hard, like it’s Pavlovian or something and just the knowledge that Harry’s naked in his flat is enough to set him off. 

He doesn’t do anything about it. Just lays there and tries not to think about what Harry may or may not have done in the shower. He thinks about his exams instead. How he’s still slogging through Infinite Jest and that he has at least five page to go on his drama theory paper, how he really shouldn’t be spending time with Harry at all, not with everything he has to get done. 

It’s the smell of coffee that finally gets Fionn up. He brushes his teeth and shrugs on the pink jumper that’s tossed on the floor next to the bed. He can tell that it’s Harry’s right away, it’s still soft inside, not worn like Fionn’s. 

Harry’s hair is already starting to dry when Fionn makes his way into the kitchen and flops down at the table, still covered in his and Tom’s notes from the day before. He’s got a holey white t-shirt on and his joggers are slung low on his hips and Fionn’s still completely gone for him. 

“Almost done. Coffee’s ready though. I didn’t make a mug up because I wasn’t sure when you’d get up,” Harry says, turning to face him. 

Fionn bites down on a laugh when he gets a good look at Harry’s face, still slightly puffy with sleep.

“Mate,” he starts,” resting his chin in his hand and staring up at Harry, “you’ve got to let go of the upper lip situation.”

Harry rolls his eyes and turns back to flip the pancakes he’s got on the stove.

“I’m my own man, Fionnly.”

Fionn heaves himself up to go for the coffee, pulls out the milk and watches it swirl. He can feel Harry hovering behind him and he lets himself breathe it all in. The smell of coffee and Harry’s freshly washed hair, how Fionn can tell Harry’s used his soap. The carby sweet pancakes that are probably perfect because they always are. 

Harry’s breath hits the back of his neck the second before his lips do, soft and gentle, just like they were the night before. Fionn turns in his arms, presses back against the edge of the counter and Harry leans in, easy as anything, kissing him sweet and close mouthed. 

Fionn doesn’t let him pull back right away. He digs his fingers into Harry’s still soft hips and runs his tongue along the seam of his lips until Harry opens up to him, mouth hot and still minty, Harry’s hand sliding around the nape of his neck like it’s instinctual. It’s nice. Easy and deep without being frantic, Harry’s body warm and solid against Fionn’s front.

Harry steps back after a minute, letting his hand slip slowly from Fionn’s neck. Fionn’s immediately cold, the absence of Harry’s chest against his acute. 

“Heyyy,” Fionn says, reaching out to pull him back in just as Harry grins at him, toothy and big as he turns his attention back to the stovetop. 

“Breakfast, c’mon. Most important meal of the day, you know. You’re skinny enough as it is.”

Fionn doesn’t even bother to protest, knows Harry’ll just pop an extra pancake on his plate anyway, so he pours a mugful off coffee and grabs his own and makes some space in the sea of notes on the kitchen table. 

“Harry,” he groans, when Harry sets a too-full plate down in front of him. 

Harry doesn’t respond, just sits down carefully across from him and peers at him over his mug of coffee.

They eat quietly. It’s good. Great, even. Mostly comfortable, Harry trapping one of Fionn’s feet between his underneath the table like he always does and humming a song Fionn doesn’t recognize under his breath.

He ends up eating the whole plate while Harry works carefully at his smaller stack, scrolling through photos on his phone. 

“Thanks, H,” Fionn says into the quiet when they’re finished. 

Harry smiles at him from across the table, still a little sleepy eyed.

“Course,” he says, stretching up and out of his chair, back cracking in the quiet of the kitchen, “so,” he starts, and then pauses.

Fionn waits for what feels like ages, even if it can’t be more than a few seconds. Harry looks uncertain. His brow’s furrowed again and Fionn mentally curses Tom for what he said yesterday.

“I thought,” he starts again slowly, “we could go to that coffee place you like? Near the library? So you could like. Get on track with your stuff. I have photos from tour that I need to edit. We could like, just sit and get work done.”

It’s painfully thoughtful. Harry’s always thoughtful, when Fionn pauses to think about it. He’s careful and polite and thoughtful and also horribly filthy and Fionn loves him, even if he doesn’t know how to say it yet. 

“Yeah,” Fionn says after a minute, blushing when his voice cracks, “yeah, that’d be nice.”

-

Harry has terrible posture, Fionn notes not for the first time as Harry opens the door to Prufrock. He’s bundled in his Randy’s Donuts hoodie, the one Fionn always steals when Harry comes home from tour.

“Go on, get the window seat, yeah? I’ll get coffees,” Harry says, turning and putting his hand at the small of Fionn’s back to push him forward. 

Fionn settles in by the window and burrows further into his pink jumper. Harry’s pink jumper, whatever. He can already feel the stress headache creeping in, and he tries to relax his jaw. 

He’s got his laptop and notes out by the time Harry gets back, clutching two mugs.

“Vanilla latte,” he says in his annoying fake posh voice, putting one of them down in front of Fionn before sitting down across from him.

“Thanks,” Fionn says, taking a slow sip and hunkering down.

-

He ends up getting a bit done. More than a bit, actually. Finishes off the paper that’s been hanging over his head, gets Infinite Jest down to its last few pages, his coffee always miraculously full and hot.

They must sit there for hours, because by the time Fionn looks up, really looks, sees that it’s well past dusk outside, and that Harry’s still sitting across from him, brow furrowed gently, blinking at him over his absurd pink laptop. 

“Hi,” he says, smile spreading across his face, and Fionn lets an answering one spread across his own. “You all right? Might be good to take a break, yeah?”

Fionn rubs at his eyes, contacts beyond dry and irritated.

“Yeah, sorry, let’s head out. Didn’t mean to take up your whole day like this,” Fionn says, shutting down his laptop and packing it away in his bag. 

“You didn’t--I always want to be around you.”

Fionn bumps Harry’s shoulder, lets himself lean into Harry as they make their way out. 

“I just,” Harry starts once they’re outside. 

He pauses long enough that Fionn doesn’t realize they’re not instep anymore right away. Harry’s hunched in on himself, like he’s trying to make himself look smaller, and Fionn hates it. Hates the Harry that’s afraid to lean into Fionn’s touch, to kiss him for too long. 

“I just like you. I mean, I more than like you,” Harry says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his joggers, “I want to spend all of my time with you. It’s not just the sex. It’s the you. You’re the part I’m here for, yeah?”

It’s like something out of Notting Hill, which Fionn hadn’t even seen until he met Harry. It’s not something he ever thought would happen to him. Like, falling into any of this was never the plan. Didn’t cross his mind really, but it’s different now, and he can’t imagine a world in which he doesn’t want this.

“Yeah,” he says after a minute, biting at his lip too hard, “I want all of it. You know?”

It doesn’t feel like enough coming out of his mouth, but maybe it’s enough for Harry, because he strides forward and wraps himself around Fionn, warm octopus limbs and presses his lips against Fionn’s neck and breathes him in like he already misses Fionn, even though they’re wrapped up in each other and Harry hasn’t left Fionn’s bed since he got back a week ago.

“Maybe,” Fionn says into Harry’s hair, clean and tickling his nose, “we could go back to yours?”

Harry bites at his neck in response and kisses it right after, soothing the skin. Fionn feels prickly all over, his skin buzzing like it does every time Harry touches him, but especially when he knows what’ll follow.

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles into his neck, one hand slipping down to dip into the back pocket of Fionn’s jeans, “yeah, all right.”

-

Harry’s worn bag from tour is still sitting just inside his front door. It’s insignificant until Fionn stops to think about Harry’s priorities when he comes back. That this is just another stop along the way, and that Fionn’s flat is his final destination. 

 

“So,” Harry starts, “I’ve got maybe frozen pizza? But I forgot to schedule a delivery, so that’s about it. We could do takeaway, or I could pop the pizza in the oven while you start a bath? If you want, anyway,” he finishes in a rush.

“I love pizza and baths,” Fionn says, stepping forward so that Harry’s forced to lean back against the door. He kisses him slowly, wrinkles his nose a little at the stale taste of coffee in Harry’s mouth, even though he knows his doesn’t taste much better.

“Black coffee, on the other hand,” he says, pulling back and biting down on a smile when Harry sways forward, chasing Fionn’s lips. 

“It’s better for my voice, ‘m a professional, remember?”

Fionn just rolls his eyes and turns to head for the stairs. 

-

Harry’s refrigerator may not be well stocked, but he always has bath bombs that Fionn can never bring himself to buy. It seems frivolous, but Harry loves them and Fionn isn’t going to pass up the opportunity to use them when he’s at Harry’s even if some of them leave him glittery all over. 

He’s barely gotten his jumper off before he hears Harry padding down the hall.

“Sooo,” he says, and Fionn turns to look at him, still half dressed, “I thought maybe. We don’t want the pizza to burn, so. We could have a little bath, then eat?”

He’s biting at his lip, trying not to grin, and Fionn knows that look.

“Mmm,” he hums, “I mean, I’m kind of hungry. Those pancakes were a long time ago.”

Harry’s smile drops a little, and Fionn can’t stop the grin that spreads across his own face. 

“I’m kidding, fuck, H, c’mon. You’re the one who would barely touch me last night. Or today.”

Harry glares at him but starts stripping with lightening speed anyway. 

“I touched, you, jesus, I just--I wanted you to know that I don’t want to just fuck you. Or for you to fuck me, I’m flexible, but I want all the other stuff, too.”

“Pretty sure we do all the other stuff. You know you’re away half the time, right? ‘S not like we’re always fucking, Tom’s just annoyed that he’s not getting laid regularly.”

Harry barks out a laugh and tugs his joggers off so he’s standing naked in the too-fancy bathroom, winter pale and arguably the best thing Fionn’s ever seen.

“C’mon,” he steps into Fionn’s space and puts his hands on Fionn’s hips, “time for the jeans to go. Gotta make the best of the time we have.”

Fionn snorts but he pulls his jeans down anyway. 

The water’s rosy pink and only a little glittery. It’s almost too hot, which is Fionn’s preference. He lets Harry get in first, giggles at how he winces at the temperature but carefully lowers himself in. 

It’s a pretty picture. Harry’s scribbly tattoos dark smudges under the water, how soft he looks even though Fionn knows Harry can lift him easily. 

Fionn steps in carefully, settles himself between Harry’s legs and lets himself adjust to the temperature for a second before he leans back against Harry’s chest. He can feel his pulse picking up just thinking about what’s coming. Harry’s half hard against the small of his back and it’s--nice. More than nice, Fionn thinks, wriggling back a little just to force a reaction out of him. 

Harry’s hands come around to curl at Fionn’s hips, barely visible underneath the milky pink of the water. He lets his thumbs draw tiny circles on Fionn’s skin but doesn’t make a move to touch his cock. 

“Didn’t you say something about making the best of the time we had?”

Fionn only sounds a little breathy, so he counts it as a small victory. He can feel Harry laughing, the water between them splashing Fionn’s back. 

“You don’t think this is making the best of it?”

There’s no inflection in Harry’s voice but he tugs Fionn closer and adjusts himself so his cock slides between Fionn’s ass cheeks and Fionn groans, digs his fingernails into Harry’s forearms.

“I think you can do better,” Fionn says, voice strangled, because he knows it’ll rub Harry the wrong way. Or the right way, depending on how he looks at it. 

One of Harry’s hands wanders down to scratch lightly at Fionn’s lower stomach and Fionn isn’t even embarrassed that this is enough to get him hard. 

“How’s this,” Harry says, voice rough.

He drops a kiss on Fionn’s shoulder. It’s soft, just like the scratch of his fingers and the movement of his hips. The water’s swirling around them and Fionn’s trying to stay still but all he wants is to grab Harry’s hand and put it on his cock. 

“Better,” Fionn pants, trying to play along even as the head of Harry’s cock catches on his rim and makes him suck in a breath, “but uh, you can. You can do better.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, kissing up the side of Fionn’s neck and pausing to suck at the skin just under his ear, “I guess I can try.” 

His hand slips lower. Lower, lower, then he wraps his fingers around the base of Fionn’s cock and it’s not going to take long, Fionn can tell. He’s always got a short fuse around Harry, but it’s worse when he’s away for long stretches. This is the kind of thing Fionn dreams about, staring up at the water spots on his ceiling. And now he has it, Harry starting up a slow rhythm, water sloshing around them, Harry’s hips moving awkwardly, his cock sliding between them. 

Fionn loses himself to it, the tight grip of Harry’s hand, how he’s sweating all over, the heat of Harry’s cock, so close to where he wants it. The swipe of Harry’s thumb over the head of Fionn’s dick, the head of his cock catching again on Fionn’s rim. It’s easy to move with Harry, to push up into his hand and then back on his cock, and that’s all it takes. 

Fionn squeezes his eyes shut when he comes and Harry works him through it, one hand on his cock and the other on his hip, pulling him back against Harry’s body. He lets himself lean back, boneless and exhausted but still lit up all over. 

“H,” Fionn says after a minute, wincing at the oversensitivity.

Harry lets his hand drop to Fionn’s hip and squeezes.

“Sorry,” he pants, “was that all right?”

“Mmm,” Fionn hums, going pliant and letting Harry’s hands guide his hips, Harry’s cock still hard between them, “go ahead, finish up.”

“Missed you,” Harry groans, and Fionn wonders if this is going to be enough for him just as Harry shoots off, slicking up Fionn’s ass even underwater. 

“That’s what gets you off, huh,” Fionn says with a laugh, feeling Harry relax behind him.

“Told you,” Harry huffs against his neck, fingers pressing at his hips again, “it’s just you, pretty much. Sounds boring when I say it, I guess.”

Fionn elbows him sharply and Harry squeaks, water splashing around them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://polaroidgirlfriend.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
